Carter's Lighter
by katbybee
Summary: NOMINATED 2017 PBA-SHORT COMEDY: Forum XIIIc Challenge 83) issued by 96 Hubbles: A Number of Short Films About Stalag 13, wherein one incident leads to another all throughout the various characters. In my case, I decided to take it a step further and enlist some help from everyone's favorite general! Please R/R.I hope you enjoy don't own, no gain, sigh!


Carter's Lighter

83) A Number of Short Films About Stalag 13 - 96 Hubbles

Carter was on his hands and knees, searching under his bunk, muttering some very interesting oaths in an apparent mixture of English, Lakota, German, and another colorful language Hogan couldn't quite identify. "Okay, Carter, what did you lose this time?" Hogan tapped Carter on the leg, and was amused as the startled young man cursed even louder when he bumped his head backing out from under the bunk. " _Sønn av en kjeks eater skadet_!"

Hogan and the others stared at him as he blushed slightly. Hogan tilted his head, "Come again, Sergeant?"

"I said, "Son of a biscuit-eater!"

Hogan grinned. Even in something other than English, Carter wasn't one to use really rough language. "What was that, anyway?"

" _Norske_ , sir. Uhh, Norwegian. It's all my great-grandparents and grandparents spoke. I learned it and Lakota way before I learned English."

His eyes widened slightly. "My grandmothers would have skinned me alive if they caught me saying anything really bad in **any** language, sir! I had a big family and lots of grandmothers!" This last was said in such earnest that Hogan, along with the rest of the men nearly lost it.

Hogan chuckled as he returned to his original question. "Did you lose something or were you just chasing Felix under your bunk, Sergeant?" he teased gently. Most of the men in Barracks 2 were amused by Carter's continual string of various and sundry pets. So far, Felix the mouse had been his longest standing companion.

Carter's expression darkened. "I've lost my lighter sir." Hogan rolled his eyes a bit. "That's not a problem. I've got an extra one. I got it last time I was in London. You can have it. Let me go get it."

"No, thank you sir, you don't understand. This was a family heirloom from my great-grandfather. I don't use it. I had only taken it out of my footlocker to polish it this morning and then put it in my pocket when we got called out on that surprise inspection. I discovered too late I had a hole in my pocket…and now it's gone. I've looked everywhere!"

Hogan frowned, knowing how hard it was to lose just one more thing in a war where they had already lost so much. He put a sympathetic arm around the young sergeant, and promised to keep an eye out for the precious item. He glanced over at Kinch, who was also watching the scene, his brown eyes sad as well. Hogan was reminded that he needed to talk to Kinch about an important couple of pieces of business. He motioned to his second in command to follow him down to the tunnel.

"Kinch, I need you to make sure you radio London about that supply of detonators for Carter. He told me he's running low, and the last thing we need is to have to put off a mission because he doesn't have enough. Better check with him and make sure he has enough of everything else he needs, too. I know we used a lot of stuff on that last job. Also, let London know our Red Cross packages were late again. I think the Germans might be hoarding them again."

Kinch smiled. "No problem, Colonel."

Kinch headed across the room to the hit the latch on the bunk to the tunnel. On the way, he nearly tripped over Newkirk, who stood up suddenly from the table in the center of the room, where he was enjoying his first cup of real coffee after getting out of the cooler for his little "exhibition" (See "Bottom's Up") the previous week. Kinch shook his head thinking about it. Only Carter could have pulled off that kind of a prank on the tough, street-wise Londoner and gotten away with his head intact. The funny thing was, Newkirk really didn't even seem bothered by the whole thing. Kinch snapped his fingers. Come to think of it, "Hey, Newkirk, you got those two chocolate bars you owe me?"

Typically, Newkirk, always sharp as a tack, developed instant amnesia. Innocently he turned his green eyes on Kinch. "What chocolate bars would those be, mate?" the young man asked. Kinch who is used to Newkirk's cons shakes his head and holds out his hand. "Nuh-uh. Not gonna work. You owe me two from the last poker game. I beat you fair and square and you know it. Fork it over. I know you have 'em because I saw you get three this morning from Schultz."

Peter grinned and shrugged as he handed the booty over to Kinch. "Can't blame a bloke for tryin' mate." Kinch chuckled and continued on toward the bunk.

Newkirk contemplated for a moment, and realized he had forgotten to ask LeBeau

what he needs him to liberate from the canteen supply pantry for the Easter dinner he was planning in a couple of weeks. He went off in search of his friend. He found him outside, doing his laundry, which gave them both ample time to discuss the dinner and the sorts of things Newkirk would need to "procure." Sometimes Schultz could help with some of it, so LeBeau decided to bake some strudel to take to Schultz later that afternoon.

When Schultz smelled the strudel, he was more than accommodating. Eating the strudel put him in a wonderful mood, which reminded him he hadn't seen Hilda yet today, as she had taken the morning off, so he went over to the office to flirt with her just a little. Schultz sat in the outer office with her for a while,

Until Hilda had to go into Klink's office to take another in an endless series of memos from her boss, Col. Klink, who is really not a bad sort. Hilda remembered to ask him for another half-day off the following week. Absently, he granted her request as she closed the door.

Klink is at the moment considering the situation in his camp. He is sure none of the prisoners realize he doesn't mind looking the other way on occasion, or will try to get extra medicine or supplies for them when one of them is wounded or ill. He tried to keep the camp medic, Sgt. Wilson as well supplied as he could. Klink rarely had any complaints come from the Infirmary or from anyone about Sgt. Wilson.

As for Wilson himself, he was very good at his job of keeping the men alive and decently healthy, despite Papa Bear's best efforts to the contrary. Wilson knew a big part of the thanks for this belonged to Sgt. Olsen, because he was "the outside man," the one who spent as much time in Hammelburg and riding with the dogs as he did in camp. He was the one who was able to get many of the supplies the camp needed. Wilson glanced out the door of the Infirmary, and saw Oskar Schnitzer's truck. He smiled as he watched the rattling old truck rumble its way over to the kennel. Speaking of the dogs, here comes

Schnitzer who is changing the dogs, because it is required by the Germans, which makes the prisoners laugh. Messages and transportation would be so much more difficult if they left the POW-friendly dogs in place! Schnitzer was running late this evening, so he was there when

both Burkhalter and Hochstetter showed up, posturing as usual, and storming up to Klink, who had just come out to attend to evening roll call. The two officers stood impatiently next to Klink as roll call ended. Roll call is a matter of routine to the prisoners, including

Thomas Foster, who bent down and picked up a silver lighter off the ground as he was headed back into Barracks Two, intending to return the lighter to its rightful owner.

Burkhalter snatched it from him before anyone could speak and in turn

Hochstetter snatched it from Burkhalter as Klink and the other two retired to his office.

Carter's eyes burned with a furious intensity as he watched the fate of his grandfather's lighter.

Without a word he stepped into Barracks Two and turned to face the rest of his teammates. All of them were looking at him sympathy in their eyes. Carter addressed his commander.

"Sir, do you remember the German General I portrayed a while back?"

"You mean—"

Carter nodded gravely. Suddenly the light dawned and all the men were chuckling.

Hogan clapped his hands. "We're gonna have to hurry. Those two could leave at any moment. No time for anything fancy."

Everyone sprang into action, and less than ten minutes later,

A very startled Corporal Langenscheidt escorted General Von Siedel into Klink's office. Von Siedel was known for his surprise tactics, his devotion to Adolf Hitler, and for his complete lack of respect for other officers. He promptly helped himself to one of Klink's cigars, swept up the lighter, and after berating them all for no apparent reason…stomped out and off into the night…

The End


End file.
